The Watercolour Lavender
by msllamalover
Summary: Seamus and Parvati spend a sad Valentine's Day together: 'She doesn’t want to be here with you, not on Valentine’s Day. She wants to be with Dean.'


_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
A/N: For the Valentine's challenge, a tad early. Lav and Dean are going strong at this point, but Dean still shares a flat with Seamus. I thought, let's try from a different perspective (Seamus instead of Parvati) and in a different style. Not sure how well it works, but I hope you like it. Reviews are love!_

Lavender had bought her over just before her and Dean went out. You had smiled at her and got her a drink. It made sense for Parvati to come and spend the evening with you, Lavender had decided, you're both alone after all and you can spend Valentine's together. You haven't really spoken that much, the usual easy conversation seems hard and stale tonight.

She looks at you, and there is hurt in her eyes. You feel sorry for her, and you feel sorry for yourself. She doesn't want to be here with you, not on Valentine's Day. She wants to be with Dean.

But then, you suppose you'd rather be with Lavender, and that hasn't turned out how you wanted.

She just looks so damned _forlorn_. She could at least make an effort. And then she smiles at you, not the beaming smile you are used to seeing, but it is a smile, and it somehow manages to reach her dark eyes. They're nice eyes, just a little _too_ dark for you.

'Parvati,' you sigh, moving closer to her. 'Are you okay?'

She looks up at you and gestures to the seat beside her. You don't take it. She sighs, her expression mirroring what you expect yours to be. 'I'm fine, I just have a headache, that's all.'

She's lying. She's bloody lying. She knows it and you know it. You answer lightly though, because you don't think either of you could take the tension right now.

'I feel a little the same way. Maybe it was something in those brownies? Or maybe we need more brownies?'

She laughs, and the sound isn't like bells, tinkling joyfully in the wind that you pretend you don't want to hear. _Stop it, Finnegan,_ you think to yourself, _when did you become a poet?_

You shake your head a little, but she doesn't seem to notice. She appears deep in thought, not replying to your previous question. You are about to speak again when she does. Her wide eyes fixing on you with the look of someone who is not to be lied to. 'Seamus, does he love her?'

And all you can do is nod. Because you know that he does. He is so very in love with her that you've been forced to call him a pansy several times to avoid letting anything slip. Parvati bites her lip and nods. She doesn't look like she believes you. Or maybe she just doesn't want to believe you. You stand waiting for the inevitable question, do _you_ love her? but she doesn't ask it. And you're glad she doesn't.

How would you answer it? You don't know if you love Lavender. You suppose you might, or you could, at least, very much if only she'd give you another chance. But Dean has the chance now and he's taking it seriously, with everything he has in him. You might have taken the chance like that if you weren't so bloody young when you missed yours.

Parvati looks up again and she still doesn't believe you, you can see it in her face. You can read her like a book you are spending that much time together. You are almost resentful that it is no longer the four of you. It is Dean-and-Lavender and the two of you. You would be more resentful, but they are two of your best friends.

'Come with me.' She doesn't say no or shake her head, so you reach for the hand she has offered you. You help her up, not letting go of her as you lead her into Dean's bedroom. She doesn't make any move to let go of your hand, but you untangle the fingers that have somehow become entwined, ignoring how natural it seemed to be holding her hand.

You open one of Dean's draws and take out his sketch book. Parvati nearly touches you on the arm as if to try to stop you, but her curiosity gets the better of her. You open the first page of the book. A beautiful watercolour-Lavender smiles back up at you, her eyes conveying emotion though she does not move. You pass the book to Parvati.

She sits on Dean's bed and stares down at it. You sit beside her and turn the pages. Each page is taken up with Lavender, each picture more lovely and more lifelike than the last. A tear tries to escape the corner of her eye, but she bats it away, thinking, hoping, you hadn't seen it.

You did see it, and you hug her close, sliding the book onto the bed. She buries her face in your shoulder, and you just let her cry. Her hair doesn't smell floral, it smells fresh and summery.

She releases you sometime later and wanders back into the living room. You put the book away and put Dean's bed back the way it was. You know he wouldn't have minded the two of you being in there to look at his drawings, but for some reason it bothers you. You just wanted to show Parvati how in love with her friend Dean was.

Slowly, you walk back out to where Parvati is standing in the center of the room, looking like she doesn't know what to do with herself. She has a loveliness all of her own that you never quite realised before.

Her hair is long and thick and shiny, falling around a face and figure you never appreciated before. She has long slender limbs, graceful. For a second it seems that she made of glass, or something breakable, but she isn't fragile. She has seen grief and experienced tragedy, and she carries it with her. It doesn't show in her proud, soft face if you don't know where to look. Her almond eyes are fixed on you, questioning.

And you move towards her in one swift move, kissing her with everything you have. She kisses back with equal fervour.

Lavender's kisses were long and tender the few times you got to experience them. Siobhan's kisses were short and soft that summer in Ireland after Sixth Year. Parvati's kisses are different, desperate and raw.

Maybe it's because this kiss isn't borne from love or desire or friendship. It isn't a kiss of romance, it's a kiss illustrating longing and need and comfort. The lack of air becomes too much for her and she has to pull away. She is breathing heavily and her hair is in disarray where you have been holding her close to you. There is something in her eyes that almost makes your heart skip a beat. She moves towards you again but you step away.

'I'm sorry you're spending Valentine's Day with me,' you murmur sadly as you look at each other. 'I know I'm not your first choice.'

'Am I yours?' She asks quietly. You don't reply but you both know she has made her point. She probably wasn't your first choice, and you definitely weren't hers, but fate, that bastard your Mam always warned you about, has dealt you a hand that you have no choice but to play.

'For what it's worth, I am glad I'm here with you.' She adds, turning away as if to leave. You reach out a hand to stop her. Your fingers graze her shoulder gently and she takes a few more steps before she stops.

She looks back and reaches out a hand to you. You take it and look into her face, feeling for the first time like you are finally looking into the future. The two of you walk out into the street below. You aren't sure where you're going and you aren't sure why, but you think that next year you might spend Valentine's together not because you have to, but because you want to.


End file.
